


Late & Stormy

by sunflowerparker



Category: harry holland - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29062884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerparker/pseuds/sunflowerparker
Summary: Harry won’t let you walk home in the storm, and Harrison picks up on something developing between you two as he catches you staying the night in Harry’s bed.
Relationships: Harry Holland/Reader, Harry Holland/You
Kudos: 4





	Late & Stormy

A storm is brewing in the sky above as you tug on your coat, wrapping the source of warmth tightly around your person. The fickle London weather has made it nearly impossible to guess what to expect each day, but you are glad you were smart enough to put on a jacket before leaving your house this evening.

You’re on your way to the boys’ house for a movie night with the goal of finishing up the second half of the Harry Potter series. It’s not a far walk from your place to theirs, but as you examine the churning clouds above, you are already dreading the walk home later.

With a quick rap, you knock on their front door, rocking on your heels as you wait for someone to answer. The door cracks to reveal a crown of soft, brown curls, a smile plastered to his pretty face. Harry lets you in, stepping aside so you can walk through.

“You look cold,” he states matter of factly.

“I am cold,” you say, a shiver shaking your body as you step through the front door.

“Come on, I’ve got a blanket on the couch. I’ll warm you up.”

Just his words already have you heating up, and you curse yourself for feeling this way about your best friend. Recently, you’ve caught yourself thinking about the curly headed boy a bit too often in a bit too much of a romantic way. Innocent gestures like cuddling have your mind suddenly spinning with thoughts you’re certain Harry does not reciprocate.

When you walk into the living room, everyone is already set up to watch the movie. Tuwaine and Harrison share a couch, leaving you and Harry to sit on the other sofa. You plop down on one end after greeting the boys, pulling your legs up onto the couch. Harry sits on the other end, spreading out the blanket across his lap before holding one end up.

“You still cold?” he asks, inviting you over.

Sliding over the cushion, you join Harry under the blanket, eyes immediately trained on the screen to avoid being caught blushing like an idiot in front of everyone. Harrison presses play before setting the remote down on the coffee table.

One movie. Two movies. Three movies.

After the third film, everyone is exhausted, including yourself, but you’re not willing to give up just yet. Empty mugs of tea are scattered across the coffee table, a feeble attempt to sustain everyone’s energy. Harrison and Tuwaine tap out, wishing you goodnight as they tread up the stairs sluggishly. You turn to Harry who is yawning himself.

“Not you too!” you whine.

Harry chuckles and shakes his head. “Nope. I’m determined to finish the last one with you if you’re still down.”

Grinning, you nod your head and press play on the remote, settling back into the couch next to Harry. Throughout the final movie, your eyelids grow heavy and you end up leaning your head against his shoulder, blanket pulled up to your chin. You can feel each time Harry tenses up at a certain scene and laugh heartily at another. It makes your pulse race being this close to him – feeling the warmth of his body heat, his every move.

It’s not like you’ve never been close to him before. He is your best friend after all. But it feels different in a way you can’t explain, almost like the air between you has shifted. You try not to dwell on the matter too long as the final film comes to a close, and Harry turns off the television.

“Well,” you stretch, standing up from the couch. “I better get going.”

“What?” Harry asks, quite bewildered. “You’re not walking home by yourself.”

“It’s not that far, Harry. I’ll be fine,” you protest as you walk to the front door and slide your shoes back on.

“It’s late, Y/N.” A yawn interrupts his speech, further solidifying his point. “It’s not fine. And besides, I heard it was supposed to storm pretty bad.”

You stand up from putting your shoes on and slide your jacket on. “A little rain won’t hurt.”

You’re stubborn. And you know if you spend any more time with Harry, you’re likely to fall head over heels for the sleepy boy rubbing at his eyes as he watches you defy his wishes.

When you open the door, you are met with a clash of thunder and a flash of electrifying blue as the night roars with an intense storm. The frigid air rushes in as well, causing a shiver to shoot through your spine. You wince. Just your luck. This would definitely not be fun to walk back home in. So you close the door and spin around, leaning up against the back of it while biting your lip.

Harry is wearing an expression that reads “I told you so” with his arms folded across his chest and his inquisitive brows arched with intrigue. The warmth from the house creeps back around you as you watch Harry’s smug expression soften.

“Still walking home?” he teases with a tilt of his head, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

You shake your head. Looks like you are staying here for the night.

Harry turns to walk back into the living room, and you follow suit.

“I can take the couch,” he says, pulling the throw blanket from off the back of the couch and spreading it out over the cushions. “You can sleep in my bed.”

“What? No. I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, Harry.”

“I really don’t mind, Y/N.”

You cross your arms over your front. “Harry,” you say sternly.

As Harry looks back at you, he scratches the back of his neck nervously. And what he offers next has your heart fluttering in your chest.

“Well, erm, you can always sleep in my bed … you know, like, with me?”

His cheeks turn a delicate shade of pink as he averts his gaze to the floor space between you. He draws his lip between his bottom teeth as he finally lifts his eyes to meet yours. Heat rises to your own face, and you swallow to compose yourself before all too eagerly agreeing to his proposal.

When you follow him up to his room, Harry hands you one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers for you to change into for the night. You go into the bathroom to change, and when you come out Harry is already under the covers mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

You pause in the doorway and take a moment to look at him. The soft light of the lamp illuminates the side of his face. His soft curls are scrunched up as he lays against the pillow. He’s shirtless, and you can’t help but trail your eyes across his chest and tummy down to where the rest of his body disappears under the blankets.

Harry finally notices you standing in the door, and he sits up a bit when you stroll into the room, flustered that you’ve been caught staring.

“Is this alright?” he asks, gesturing to his lack of shirt.

You nod your head, instinctively drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth. “As long as you’re not naked under these blankets, I’ll be fine.” You end your taunt with a wink, and he rolls his eyes at you.

As he reaches over to place his phone on the nightstand, a loud crash of thunder shakes the house, prompting you to practically jump in the bed and hide under the covers. Harry casts you a weird look, but you dare not say anything.

As silly as it may sound, you are scared of storms. You’ve never liked them, even as a child. Deep down, you know Harry would not judge you if you told him, but you can’t help the fear that maybe he will cause you to withhold that piece of information from him.

After Harry turns the lamp off, the two of you settle into the covers. The soft pitter patter of rain taps against the roof of the house, interrupted by occasional bursts of rumbles and bolts of lightning.

You can’t help but shrink closer to Harry as you lay in the dark room trying to fall asleep. You think your best friend is knocked out for the night, his rhythmic breathing constant and deep as the two of you lay still in the dark, but you are wrong.

When Harry takes notice of you inching closer to him, he scoots closer to the edge, thinking he hasn’t given you enough room. But when it happens again and again, he realizes you’re trying to get closer to him. It rouses him from his sleepy state, worry at the forefront of his mind.

“You alright, love?” he rasps, his mind a bit foggy from drifting in and out of slumber.

Your eyes widen, and you pull the covers over your face to shield your embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Harry turns on his side to face you. “What’s the matter?”

You feel Harry’s fingers wrap around the blanket and slowly peel it away from your face. When you look into his caring brown eyes swimming with concern, you know you can bare your heart to him.

“I, uh, don’t laugh.”

Harry’s brows furrow as he listens intently.

“I’m afraid of storms,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest as you await his answer.

His features soften, and his eyebrows lift in realization. “Aw, love. It’s alright. Come here.”

As he opens his arms, a smile creeps across your face after you let out a sigh of relief. You knew you could trust him.

“I’ll keep you safe.”

Harry slides his arm around your shoulders, and you cuddle in close to his chest. You’re hesitant at first, but he puts you at ease with a gentle squeeze to your shoulder. So you readjust yourself so your face is pressed against his bare chest, leg bent and resting over his lower half. Your pulse is racing as the two of your bodies tangle together perfectly, feeling like home.

Harry’s arms enclose around you, and you feel safe — protected. But it’s more than that. It’s not just your best friend comforting you. It’s your best friend, the guy you fancy, openly showing you affection by holding you close to his person. And as he nuzzles his face into your hair and plants a light kiss on top of your head, you breathe in the captivating scent of his cologne which leaves you even more breathless than before.

The storm the farthest thing from your mind, your eyes flutter closed as you relish in the blissful feeling of Harry’s embrace. His fingers comb gently through your hair, bringing an air of peace over you. And as Harry’s breaths grow deep and steady, you allow the rhythm to lull you to sleep. Maybe the storm isn’t such a bad thing after all.

The next morning, Harrison tears through the house. He can’t seem to find the charger to their video game controller, so he mindlessly strolls into Harry’s room to ask if he’s seen it laying around lately. Much to his surprise, when he opens the door without knocking, he doesn’t find Harry alone, another figure curled up in the bed with him. Harrison’s brows pinch as he curiously examines the sight in front of him.

The two of you are still asleep, the sun barely creeping into the room through the sheer curtains. Harrison stands on his toes to get a peek at who his best mate had a sneaky sleepover with. When he catches a glimpse of the colour of your hair, he knows, without a doubt, that it’s you.

“Oh, what do we have here?” he mumbles to himself.

Harrison smirks as he slowly backs out of the room, closing the door behind him softly. Once the door is closed, he does a little happy dance in celebration of the two of you making a move towards being more than friends before calmly walking into the living room to continue his search elsewhere, making a mental note to relentlessly tease the two of you about it later.

When Harry inhales deeply, the rise of his chest stirs you awake. Your eyes flutter open and the sight before you has you swooning. Harry’s head is nestled in close to yours, a small puddle of drool collected on his pillow by the corner of his mouth. His curls lay a tousled mess on top of his head, a few stray strands falling across his forehead. And when he opens his eyes, those deep brown orbs looking back at you, your heart skips a beat in your chest.

“Morning,” he rasps as a yawn overtakes him.

His husky voice has you smiling like an idiot as you greet him back. “Morning, sleepy head.”

When you try to pull away, you realize how intertwined your limbs got during your sleep as you have to untangle your legs from each other before you can sit up properly. You giggle to yourself as you try to hide how flustered he’s left you.

You yawn and stretch, the hem of his shirt rising up as you lift your arms above your head. “Thanks for letting me stay the night, Harry.”

“Of course, love.”

“And for,” you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “You know, making me feel safe during the storm.”

Harry tilts his head, his cheeks suddenly becoming more rosy. “Anything for you,” he says with a bright smile.

Sliding out of the bed, you grab your clothes from the day before and head back into the bathroom to change. You smell like Harry, and it takes every ounce of restraint in you to refrain from stealing his t-shirt that you wore to bed.

As you step out of the bathroom, Harry is waiting for you at the door to his room. “Are you staying for breakfast?”

“No,” you sigh. “I need to be heading home,” you lie.

Because truth be told, if you stay for breakfast, you know you will end up sticking around for the entire day, and you need some time to process everything that happened last night. As innocent as the night was, you can’t help the growing feelings of adoration towards your best friend as you laid curled up by his side well into the morning. It felt so natural and easy finding home in his arms, and despite an inkling telling you he might feel the same way, you don’t want your overthinking brain to cloud your judgement. So you resolve it’s best to think it through on your own and see if Harry mentions it at all.

The two of you walk down the stairs together. As you stroll past the kitchen, Harrison is leaning against the counter sipping on a cup of tea. When he sees you, his eyes light up.

“Y/N. I didn’t know you spent the night,” Harrison says, hiding his mischievous grin behind his mug.

“Oh, uh,” you stutter. “It was umm..”

“Late.” “Stormy.”

You and Harry look at each other sheepishly as you spoke at the same time. Harrison’s gaze flickers between the two friends acting all too awkward around each other as he takes another sip of his tea.

“Late and stormy, eh?” he inquires suspiciously.

You nod your head yes, before mumbling something about needing to be on your way and rushing to the front door.

Harry walks you to the door and watches as you slide your shoes back on.

“Thanks again for letting me stay, Harry. It meant a lot,” you confess.

He pulls you in for a hug, wrapping his arms around your middle and leaning his head against your shoulder. “It was no problem, love,” he mumbles into your hair.

When Harry pulls away, you giggle at the tension between you two, silently hoping you hadn’t ruined your friendship by something as silly as sharing a bed with each other. You wish him a quick goodbye before heading out the front door and into the damp street to walk home.

Spinning on his heel once you’ve closed the door behind you, Harry makes his way to the kitchen. As he slides onto the bar stool, Harrison quirks an eyebrow, looking between Harry and the front door inquisitively.

“What’s up with that?”

Harry shakes his head and bites back a grin. “I don’t know, mate.” But the pink tinted cheeks and face-splitting smile betray his words as he drums his fingers against the counter and says, “We shall see…”


End file.
